searching for a heart
by long long ago
Summary: "but it hurts, because it's my problem, and it matters, and I just wish someone would open their eyes and see for once, so I can stop feeling this way. just someone who'd change my opinion, who'd show me why the world doesn't suck, so I don't spend my life living in this vain self-pity." ・ RinｘLen


**searching for a heart | fan-fiction | Vocaloid | featuring Len K & Rin K**

**{by long long ago}**

**a/n; **Author hopes you like unliterary, short and tedious word vomit.

'Cus yeah. No capitals.

* * *

_O N E_

so the weekend starts like this:

I am sitting on the couch watching a rerun of _grey's anatomy_ when mum walks in with her saffron coat on, all glitzy and glamorous despite it being 5:30 in the afternoon, as she'd just come home from work, and she says, "Len, I just received a complaint from your school. you need to cut your hair."

I look at her like she's mildly crazy, touch my hair defensively and go, "fuck no."

mum gives me this exasperated expression. "please, please," she begs, "don't start with this."

"I will not cut my hair. if they don't like it, they can go shove it up their fucking asses." just so I can't hear her most-likely-to-be-coming rebuttal, I lean on the volume button on the tv remote and turn up the volume on the tv excessively, causing the house to vibrate like a nightclub.

mum walks over in her heels, clicking against the wooden floorboards, and flicks the switch off at the power point just to piss me off. "Len," she addresses, stepping in front of me and placing both hands on her hips. "listen to me."

"if I listen to you, will cancer be cured?" I ask back nonchalantly.

mum puts her hands to her forehead and rubs her temples wearily. "Len, please don't be like this," she begs. "just—please—you want to start out new, don't you? don't be like this. I am paying for you to go to this school and it's a good school and I want you to have a decent education, and _please_, will you cut your hair just this once? you can grow it as long as you want when it's summer. just—please, let's just cut it a bit so it's not past your shoulders, okay?"

she makes it sound like I'm agreeing.

I'm not.

"no," I answer indifferently. "I don't want my hair cut and I never said anything in my whole life about starting new. I didn't want to go to this school; so you don't have to pay for it. if you want me to have a decent education, let me be home-schooled or something."

mum makes this sound half between a frustrated grunt and an ailing sob. "_Len_," she murmurs. "please—for _me_, for your father."

I instantly sink back into my seat. "don't bring dad into this, mum."

"Len," she repeats.

"he's dead—he doesn't give an effing shit," I say. "don't bring him into this."

mum falls silent—into that silence she usually falls into when she knows she can't think of any good come back and can't win against my argument—chewing her bottom lip nervously. "Len," she sighs. "you are despicably selfish."

"good," I respond.

and then she gives up with a huff and stalks out of the living room, leaving me sitting in front of a black tv screen in a bitter atmosphere, allowing the words _despicably selfish_ to boil underneath my skin, and that—that is how I start my weekend.

my name is Len, and I am despicably selfish.

* * *

we moved to this shit town when dad died, at the end of last year, when I was fifteen. we all knew he was dying; mum and I—he had some rare terminal cancer and the chances were zero of him ever being cured. so, yeah. he died.

we didn't really know what to do afterwards. and then, two months after dad conked it, mum just announced one day we were moving and that was that; our bags were packed miraculously and we were on a two hour plane flight north, with me dreading the future and mum hoping to change hers.

she never really asked for my input on this whole 'new beginning' kind of thing. she just expected—_expects_—me to go along with it, like it's totally okay she estranged me from my past life which was _fine_ the way it is; it really was, and it's totally okay she's forcing me to go to this posh, strict school brainy kids from all over the state go to, when I'd rather just be back home—not this home, my _real_ home—at the school where I'm not expected to be a child prodigy, where I can just be left alone, and not forced to change who I am or anything. I was happy _then_. but no, not _now_.

then she goes ahead and calls me _selfish_—selfish, for chris'sake! and _she's_ the one who's ruining my life while trying to fix hers. talk about _selfish_.

well, it's been a month since school started. I hate it so far. I'm not one of those kids who are like, super outgoing or anything, and my dad being dead and this sudden move to a whole new school environment just doesn't help. like, what's so self-esteem-boosting about trotting around in this butt-ugly uniform that seems like it was made in the early 1800s? I just hate this school—_everything_—so, so, so much.

neither am I exactly hip or up to the latest fad or good-looking. it's extra brownie-points if you look like channing tatum or whatever; I tell you. the only interest girl's at this school have in me is if they can help me with their god damn chemistry homework.

fuck the planet, I tell you. fuck it.

sometimes I think about throwing myself over the three or four-storey-high balconies at school just for the heck of it. whatever. it's not like anyone would miss me. being dead surely sounds better than being Len. I'll tell you that.

but I'm no suicidal kid or anything. I don't cut myself. like, I mean, these are only just thoughts. there's a vast majority between _thinking_ and actually _doing_. I just don't see the point in living. but I'm not suicidal. I'm too chicken to throw myself off the balconies in case I might survive and end up in a wheelchair, because that would fucking suck a god damn lot.

like I said, the school is full of rich kids and posh kids, and if they're not rich or posh—they're either on scholarships for being overly gifted music students or child prodigies kicked out of other schools for being too god damn smart. and the sad, bad thing about that is the rich and posh kids all clump together, and the musically gifted students all clump together, and the child prodigies all clump together, which leaves the useless, ordinary dregs like me to sit in the corner alone all day eating stale potato chips and wishing they were elsewhere.

I guess I could probably try to mingle with the rich or posh, or the musically talented (but definitely not the Einstein's, because I'm failing almost every subject and attending extension classes for half of them)—if I wanted to.

but I hate the rich and posh kids anyway, because they're all _appearance, appearance, appearance_ and not _personality, personality, personality_, which is pretty pointless for an ugly butt like me to try slipping into the crowd, because I'd stick out like a sore thumb—a _hideous_ sore thumb. and I don't really favour the musical students, because I sat with them once, and my rough knowledge of piano and guitar can do nothing against their knowledge of like, the oboe, violin, saxophone, xylophone, piano, organ and cello. basically, I'm too stupid or too ugly to hang out with them.

not that I care, because whatever.

of course, the music kids are nicer than the posh kids. they do talk to me occasionally. and they always offer for me to sit with them at lunch. maybe they're a bit too nice. I mean I'm starting to get used to being called a loser in the hallway; and their sudden niceness after that is just too much—like they pity me or something.

mum thinks I actually 'have' friends and stuff at school. she always says, "you're free to bring friends over after school, Len, just let me know."

and I'd be like, "whatever." because there's no use in telling her I don't actually have friends or anything. it won't fix the problem. it never does.

back home, I used to have friends. I used to be okay. I wasn't really worried about the fact that I was haemorrhoid-butt-ugly, or that I wasn't exactly the smartest human being to walk the earth, or that I wasn't the coolest or hippest person to be. no one was there to judge me. but now, at this new school, all I'm ever judged _about_ is my hideousness, and my unintelligence, and my conservativeness.

it's like, "hey, guess what, since you've been really god damn comfortable in your body for the past 15 years, we're just going to remind you why you're actually useless and will never get a girlfriend."

so I hate myself. so I hate other human beings. so I hate everything.

and it's reasonable to have that hate. you see, when you get forced to move from your comfort zone straight after the only person who ever understood you died to a school where you're reminded, frankly, why you suck and shouldn't be living anyway, then you would understand why I have so much hate. or why I consider throwing myself off a balcony.

then again, it's not like I'm dying of terminal cancer like my dad was and it's not like I'm homeless and dying of starvation, so, I've really got it easy, I guess.

but it hurts, because it's my problem, and it matters, and I just wish someone would open their eyes and see for once, so I can stop feeling this way. just someone who'd change my opinion, who'd show me why the world doesn't suck, so I don't spend my life living in this vain self-pity.


End file.
